


The Five (Self-fulfilling Prophecies)

by alizarin_nyc



Category: BSG - Fandom
Genre: Community: femslash07, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-15
Updated: 2007-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizarin_nyc/pseuds/alizarin_nyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five women Kara Thrace slept with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five (Self-fulfilling Prophecies)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artemis_rain](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=artemis_rain).



Starbuck always gravitated to the number five.

Five was just like blue, red, yellow. Like circles inside of circles and ragged colored storms.

They are primary colors, five is a primary number and she’s in the prime of her life.

The five fingers of her hand. Each broken and repaired.

She was the fifth vote to find Gaeta guilty of treason and collaboration. (And see how well that worked out.)

It takes her five minutes to get ready in the morning. Unless she’s having visions of her childhood and seeing mandalas in candle wax.

  
 **The first.**

The first woman Starbuck was with, back on Caprica, was a dancer.

The viper pilot and the dancer – there was no stranger combination. It was a time Kara preferred to think of as an experiment. She knew she liked men and she wasn’t finished with all that they might offer her. They were pretty easy to get rid of after, too.

New recruits in the academy were taken on cultural expeditions, for the building of team spirit and to infuse in them something other than the rote, brute violence of boot camp and the stressful tests in the cockpit.

 _Culture._ They laughed their asses off about that.

Kara saw Serena on stage and was utterly mesmerized. The graceful modern dance was also powerful and sexual; nothing dainty about it. It was all raw strength and pared-down limbs and a face that shone with light.

Kara left her name and number at the will-call and a few days later she was rewarded with a note, a ticket, and an invitation backstage. Their first meeting was awkward; Kara didn’t know the ropes when seducing a woman, but Serena didn’t mind the missteps. Serena had a simple, pretty flat in a nice neighborhood and Kara tumbled into her bed, all smiles. The sex was good and Kara was a fast learner.

Sweet Serena.

She offered Kara so much but what was a Thrace going to do with all that luxury? Spoil it, burn it, in short – frak it up. She was her mother’s child and she knew what she did and did not deserve.

Kara was great at self-fulfilling prophecies.

Sweet Selena spoiled her on women for a very, very long time.

  
 **The second.**

Kat was a screamer, wouldn’t you just know it.

She was always so loud, Starbuck wanted to smack her. One day she got the chance. Kat was stomping around, bragging about Scar, about her mad piloting skills, about all the men who adored her and the women who wanted to be her.

Starbuck bided her time. She drank less than Kat did that night, she let Kat beat her at cards, she kept her mouth shut. It was a major accomplishment, but when Starbuck wanted something, she generally could do what needed to be done to get it. Everyone knew that.

It was late and it was down to the two of them in the pilot’s lounge. “Let’s you and me make a wager on this last round, Kat,” Starbuck suggested. “Something interesting. Something very interesting.”

“You’ve been a loser all night, Starbuck, in fact, a loser all your life. What makes you think suddenly now’s your time to shine?”

“Instinct,” Starbuck said.

“Well, I know what I want, then.”

“Name it.”

“If I win,” Kat said, “ _When_ I win. You do my deck work for one month. All my cleaning shifts, maintenance duties, tool room, engine tuning. One month.”

“If I win,” Starbuck shot back, “You let me frak you tonight. You’re free when the day shift starts. And if I recall, you’re due in the tool room at 0500, and you’ll have a hell of a hangover. And I’m not just talking about the liquor this time.”

Kat stared at her. “That’s kind of… sick.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Because I know you have, the way you went sniffing around Dee first, then Racetrack. You’re totally lesbian, everyone knows it. Most importantly, I know it, and I want to show you how it’s done.”

“Straight girl gonna show _me?_ Starfuck, honey, there are some things that don’t come naturally to everyone. Just because you can suck dick and fly a hunk of metal around in space doesn’t mean…”

“So you’re not up for it?”

“Frak you, Starbuck. Deal the frakkin’ cards.”

Starbuck dealt. Starbuck won, hands down. When she pulled Kat over into her lap the other girl was shaking. With rage or lust, Starbuck didn’t much care. She drew Kat into a series of lush kisses and Kat didn’t protest, only whimpered slightly. Victory.

Starbuck arranged Kat’s legs over her own thighs, then unzipped her pants and stuck a hand in. She didn’t let Kat’s mouth leave hers, continued to press in her tongue, continued to beat back the opposition. With one hand cupped between Kat’s thighs, she let just enough pressure and heat build up and then she pulled her mouth away.

“Say, ‘frak me Starbuck.’”

“What?” Kat’s eyes were lazy with desire, flickering over Starbuck’s mouth. Starbuck pulled back slightly. “You’re frakking nuts.”

Starbuck pressed the heel of her hand down hard over Kat’s clit. “Say it, say ‘Starbuck, I want you to frak me.’”

“Frak you, Starbuck.”

Starbuck slapped her. Not hard enough to hurt, hard enough to sting. “No. Not good enough. Look at me,” Starbuck instructed. “I’m going to frak you no matter what, but it can be good for you too, or not.”

Kat stared at her for long moments, her scowl deepening. “Starbuck.”

“Good girl, that’s my name, say it again.” Starbuck ran her tongue up the curve of Kat’s neck and buried her hand in her thick hair, yanking it free of its braid. She pulled again and bit at Kat’s neck.

“Frak _me_ , Starbuck,” Kat said, breathing hard. “I want you to, I want it…”

”Good girl,” Starbuck said, and pushed Kat up and bent her back over the table. She stripped off Kat’s boots and pants and underwear while Kat pulled her tanks up and over her head. Starbuck stripped too, nearly falling over as she pulled at her boots, and that wouldn’t be good; she didn’t want to show the competition that she was just as excited.

Starbuck went back to Kat’s mouth, laying them both cautiously over the flimsy card table, spilling cards everywhere and knocking the empty shot glasses to the floor.

“Oh yeah,” Kat breathed as Starbuck’s fingers slid in slow and sure. “Yeah, that’s it, Starbuck. Frak me.”

Starbuck rocked up against her, hard, rough thrusts, thumb in the right place and Kat was screaming, hollering, saying her name over and over and then outright begging. It was the best Starbuck had ever heard. And she’d heard a lot of begging.

After Kat came, she proved herself an equal opportunity frak and sank to her knees to use her tongue on Starbuck. She was pretty good too, Starbuck had to give her that. But she didn’t say Kat’s name, or even beg, just gripped her head in encouragement and when Kat pushed her fingers inside, Starbuck rode it out then shoved Kat’s head away.

“Someone could have walked in on us,” Kat said, wiping her mouth and standing up.

“Hey, it’s more private than my bunk. Which is actually where we’ll finish up. Like I said, your ass is mine until 0500.”

And for once, Kat didn’t give her any lip.

  
 **The third.**

Ellen Tigh was out of her goddamn mind if she thought that she was going to join Kara and Anders for a threesome.

Seriously. Out of her mind.

It was clear she wanted something like that. Every time she came around in the early days on New Caprica, it was clear she was sniffing around Anders.

But everyone knew that Anders didn’t so much as fart without Kara giving him the go-ahead.

Sam Anders liked being a kept man. He didn’t much care what Kara did on her own, whether she was loyal or faithful, he just wanted to be hers. He wanted to be around her, he wanted to be allowed to love her. He wanted to get whatever she could give.

So Ellen’s intentions shifted to include Kara. She probably thought that was easiest. She probably thought that, drunk as they were likely to get on any given night, it would be easy to slip into bed with them. Kara inwardly scoffed at that. Nothing and nobody got by her.

It wasn’t that she thought that Ellen _wasn’t_ hot. She was. And she could drink them under the table, most nights. That was no small feat.

It was inevitable then, that once Kara had satisfied her curiosity about Jammer, (cute, but inexperienced), that she’d slip into a tent one night with Ellen.

Ellen, gods bless her, didn’t bat an eye. She reeled Kara in like a fish on a line, like she’d been out for this the entire time. Kara caught up after that and they matched each other, kiss for kiss, neither tongue dominant but learning that they had to take turns if they wanted to breathe. When Ellen went down on her, scattering ripped clothing around Saul’s tent, Kara was ready to be surprised. Ellen did not disappoint.

When Kara stumbled out of the Tigh’s tent an hour later, Saul was there, sitting on a crate, smoking a cigarette. She waved at him. What he thought was not her problem. And she’d made Ellen sigh and moan and if _he_ couldn’t do the same, that was his tough luck.

She felt a hard little pebble of guilt in her gut when Tigh went missing two days later, snagged by Cylons and dragged off to gods know where.

Then the pebble disappeared when one morning, she woke up in a strange place, in a strange bed, with Leoben standing over her.

  
 **The fourth.**

Starbuck wasn’t ready to give herself up to Leoben, except maybe, in dreams, where she couldn’t help it. When she was awake, she wasn’t _that_ far gone. He was a creepy, stupid frakking Cylon, and she’d remind herself of that every day. She’d kill him every day if that’s what it took.

She woke up sweaty, dream-addled, again. His blood was a brown blot on the floor, a red flag that this was happening, that it was real.

She was right in the middle of a strained, desperate attempt to masturbate when a hesitant knock came from upstairs. If Leoben was playing shy suitor, he’d get head-butted for his trouble. Starbuck was in no mood.

She opened the door to that bitch, D’Anna Biers.

D’Anna did a double-take, an odd little stumble that was completely out of place for this one, who pranced around New Caprica in her high heels and white suits. Today she wore a white skirt, slit up to gods knew where.

 _“You,”_ D’Anna said, her voice trembling. _“Forgive me. I had no idea.”_

“What?” Starbuck sighed and went downstairs. D’Anna followed. “I don’t know what you want. Leoben has frakked off for the time being since I stuck him with a steak knife like the pig he is.”

“Very brave,” D’Anna drawled. She seated herself on the white couch, letting her long legs stretch out in front of her. That skirt was damn sexy.

“Where do you toasters do your shopping?” Kara asked, “I’d love to know.”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” D’Anna answered. “I’m not here on a social visit, as you may have guessed. I just wanted to see what has Leoben all worked up. He’s been keeping odd hours, spending time away from us and we miss him.”

“You can have him.”

“What does he see in you, Starbuck?”

“He sees what he wants to see.” Starbuck shifted on her chair, still sticky and sweaty from touching herself moments before. It suddenly occurred to her that Leoben would be angry if he knew that D’Anna had come around here snooping on her. It also occurred to her that he might be even more angry if she slept with D’Anna and not him.

“Would you like to have the Starbuck Experience so you can see for yourself?” Starbuck asked with raised eyebrow. “What the hell, right?” She had nothing better to do. Seducing a Cylon – so long as it wasn’t Leoben – could be a bit of a game in itself.

D’Anna cleared her throat and adjusted her skirt. She parted her thighs slightly and Starbuck could see she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Nice. If she stuck her fingers in the socket, so to speak, would she get electrocuted? Curiosity overcame her and she moved to the couch near D’Anna. She’d need to first make sure the crazy toaster wasn’t going to snap her neck.

But D’Anna rubbed her hand down Starbuck’s bare thigh. Good enough. Starbuck dove in, hands pushing up the skirt roughly, latching her mouth onto D’Anna’s neck. _Frak,_ the Cylon was certainly wet in the right place. _Game on._

Starbuck got a mouthful of soft blonde hair and she pulled away to free herself, but D’Anna’s long fingers were wrapping around her head and bringing her in toward her lips. She didn’t want to _kiss_ a toaster, but once she started, the mouth was warm enough, salty and soft and Starbuck let it go.

Their legs entwined; white skirt was hiked up far enough, and Starbuck’s sleep-shorts were pulled down far enough and so they worked each other eagerly with their fingers.

D’Anna bit down on Starbuck’s lip and licked the blood away, a beatific smile blooming on her lovely face.

In retaliation, Starbuck kissed her way down D’Anna’s neck until she reached the shoulder join and then she bit as hard as she could.

Did Cylons feel pain the way humans did? It seemed so, as D’Anna yelped and blood-bruises in the shape of Starbuck’s teeth rose to the surface of the skin. _Fascinating._

D’Anna came first, finally, and she pushed Starbuck back on the couch so she could lick over her breasts and stomach, until Starbuck clenched around her fingers and shouted. _Itch scratched._

“Frak, I just frakked a toaster,” Starbuck said, sitting up.

D’Anna looked down at her, her clear eyes seeming to coolly take in every detail of Starbuck’s face. Her eyes were simultaneously sympathetic and somehow knowing.

“You really _are_ something special,” she said.

  
 **The end.**

It was natural, or maybe unnatural, that the fifth woman Kara Thrace slept with would be Dee. They were clearly bringing new meaning to the term “hate sex.” Not even Kat had been so rocky a courtship for Kara.

That day started out with their usual mix of glares, up and down the hallways, and it was making everyone uncomfortable.

“Kara,” Helo said, “enough is enough. You have to fix this thing with Dee so we can all get back to work. Put your petty little spat aside and focus on what’s really important here.”

“Yes sir, Helo _sir._ Because you’ve certainly never let love or jealousy get in your way when shit was going down, and we needed you to focus. No way, you’re too perfect for that _human_ shit.”

If Helo was stung, he didn’t show it. She’d been able to get to him less and less as time went on. And if he looked at her with pity _one more time_ , she was going to frak him up so bad his baby would scream when she saw him.

So she wasn’t in the best mood when she went to the Adama quarters to confront Dee. It didn’t go down well at all. Dee was in boxer shorts and a flimsy tank and she wasn’t wearing a bra. It was damn distracting. Also, Dee sometimes looked kind of hot when she was yelling and really, really angry.

Kara wasn’t about to back down, however. That would surprise no one, and she was likely to be as predictable as her mother told her she would be. So she rolled right over Dee. She got up in her face and yelled just as loudly.

Things like, “It’s not my business if you can’t keep your man on his leash.”

And Dee said things like, “You just want whatever it is you don’t happen to have at that exact moment.”

And Dee was right. And Kara didn’t feel bad about that, instead, she felt damn powerful. If she closed her eyes, she could see a yellow circle inside a blue circle inside a red circle inside a yellow sun. When she opened her eyes, Dee’s eyes blazed out of her face, with their weird yellow color, and Kara knew she was going to take something she didn’t have, but wanted anyway.

Dee slapped her off, but Kara was relentless. She was unstoppable; an object in motion that stayed in motion, the centripetal force of her desires had the gravitational pull of a black hole.

“Dee, Dee, Dualla,” she murmured as she opened her mouth and sucked on Dee’s neck, her hands already up and under the tank, Dee’s tiny birdlike body giving way. Dee started crying, and Kara licked the tears off her face. “I got what you need, don’t worry about it.”

It was likely that with Lee involved, Dee wasn’t getting the sort of touch that she needed, the kind of stroking and holding and worshipping that every woman needs. Kara’s hands were sure and strong. In minutes, Dee wasn’t fighting anymore; she was giving up and over. She let Kara’s hands go everywhere. She let Kara’s tongue go down to her nipples and circle around and around, Dee’s breasts like mandalas, circles without end, with meaning and heat at their center.

Kara eased Dee back on the bed – the bed she shared with Lee – and Dee’s legs opened for her. Kara slid in between them and began a slow assault on Dee, first with one finger, then with two, increasing the speed as Dee became more aroused. Her tear-stained face was beautiful. She gasped for breath and Kara eased her pinkie finger toward the back and pressed her thumb to Dee’s clit, circling, and then leaned forward to cover Dee’s gasps with her mouth. Dee bucked up under her, clenching, and Kara had to stop right then when she realized she was still dressed.

She quickly undressed all the while telling Dee how much she wanted to feel her whole body under her. Dee was mute, nodding. Kara was back on the bed quickly and over and inside Dee, frakking her with fingers inside her, with tongue in her mouth.

Dee wrapped her legs around Kara and for long minutes they fucked, rocking the bed, until it was over.

Kara left, leaving Dee to figure out if Lee would be able to smell Kara all over her. It was no longer interesting to her. She knew Dee would probably be better able to get on with her life now that she’d had what her husband so badly wanted.

As for what Kara wanted, it was still the same old thing.

It was never enough.

She wanted more.

  
.


End file.
